Chapter 2

After a few seconds, Loya coughed awkwardly. Silence enveloped him. The sea breeze whispered around, and he almost thought he heard a distant, mocking "Fool... Fool... Fool..."

Shaking off the embarrassment, Loya extended his finger and clicked on the arrow behind the word "liftable."

Years of consuming web articles and gaming had taught him a cardinal rule: never delay an upgrade. Who knows when a formidable foe might leap out to end you? Only upgrading could bolster his chances of survival.

Suddenly, the interface blurred.

As the blue energy engulfed him, Loya's eyes widened. "Whoa, what the-" he gasped, watching the patterns spread across his skin. "Am I going Super Saiyan or something?"

The sensation faded, leaving him tracing the new diamond shapes on his wrists. "Huh, cool tattoos, I guess," he muttered, checking his stats again.

Name: Christopher Loya

Energy Stage: First Stage, First Layer

 Energy value: 0/20

Mana: 550/550

Mana Recovery Speed: 50/s

His mana had increased by 50 points, and the energy required for the next stage had doubled. But neither the Dragon Body nor Dragon Power had changed.

Could it be that the energy stage boost has no correlation with my Dragon Slayer abilities? Or is it merely a matter of level?

Frowning at the unchanged Dragon Slayer abilities, Loya scratched his head. "Well, that's weird. Maybe I'm doing this wrong?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "Man, I could really use a tutorial right about now."

His stomach growled loudly, making him jump. "Again? Seriously?" He patted his belly, grumbling, "Alright, alright, I hear you. No more coconuts though, I swear."

[Time skip to hunting scene]

"Ice Dragon's... Iron Fist!" Loya shouted, his fist connecting with a satisfying thud. Landing gracefully, he surveyed his handiwork with a low whistle. "Damn, that's one big pig. Guess I'm eating good tonight."

As he hoisted the massive skewer, Loya couldn't help but grin. "Look at me now, mom. Your little gamer boy's turning into the Hulk." His smile faded slightly as homesickness hit. "Wonder what they're all doing back home..."

Back at his cave, Loya set about preparing his meal. "Alright, let's fire this baby up," he muttered, lighting the bonfire. As the meat began to roast, he leaned back, lost in thought.

"Man, if my old raid group could see me now," he chuckled softly. "From raiding dungeons to raiding boar nests. Life's funny sometimes."

His gaze drifted to the sky, a hint of melancholy in his voice. "Wonder if I'll ever get back... or if I even want to anymore." He flexed his arm, watching the diamond tattoo shimmer. "Got to admit, being a Dragon Slayer beats being a cubicle drone any day."

The smell of roasting meat brought him back to the present. "Right, food first. Existential crisis later," Loya nodded, turning the skewer. "At least I'll never complain about mom's cooking again. Even her burnt meatloaf sounds amazing right now."

But as time slipped by, hope morphed into despair. Loya vented, bellowed, and sobbed, but it did nothing to alter his predicament. Realizing the futility, he decided to conserve his energy for more practical endeavors, like finding clean leaves to cushion his bed.

Once he calmed down, Loya collected himself and used ice to craft an SOS sign at the highest point of the beach and island. He wasn't sure if anyone in this world would understand its meaning, but words appearing on a deserted island would surely draw attention.

Then began the interminable wait...

The white marks left by seawater on stones became Loya's salt supply. He knew this salt contained mild toxins, and too much could be harmful, but without it, he'd lack the strength for daily hunts.

Loya rubbed salt on the pork, muttering, "Beggars can't be choosers, I guess." He took a massive bite, barely chewing before swallowing. "God, I miss hot sauce."

As he reached for another piece, he grumbled, "Still hungry? Seriously? This pig could feed a family for a week." He sighed, patting his stomach. "Alright, status check time."

Murmuring to himself, Loya summoned his status panel.

Name: Christopher Loya

Energy stage: First stage, tenth layer

Energy value: 85/100

Mana: 1000/1000

Mana Recovery Speed: 100/s

Loya rubbed salt on the pork, muttering, "Beggars can't be choosers, I guess." He took a massive bite, barely chewing before swallowing. "God, I miss hot sauce."

As he reached for another piece, he grumbled, "Still hungry? Seriously? This pig could feed a family for a week." He sighed, patting his stomach. "Alright, status check time."

Squinting at his stats, Loya whistled. "Not bad, not bad. Dragon body up to 12%... wait, dragon power still at 1%?" He frowned, scratching his head. "Come on, throw me a bone here!"

After devouring more pork, he licked his fingers clean. "Alright, let's do this," he said, tapping the upgrade arrow. "Here goes nothing..."

As the blue energy enveloped him, Loya's eyes widened. "Whoa, this is new," he gasped, feeling the pressure build. "Is this what being in a cocoon feels like?"

When the cocoon shattered, Loya stumbled, blinking in confusion. "What the... did I grow?" He flexed his new muscles, grinning. "Holy crap, I'm jacked!"

Watching the scales retract, he touched his face in wonder. "That was... intense." He looked at his hands, feeling the magic surge through him. "Oh man, this power... it's incredible!"

Excitement bubbled up, and Loya couldn't contain himself. He pumped his fist in the air, shouting, "Level up, baby! Loya the Dragon Slayer is officially in business!"

Then, realizing he was alone, he chuckled sheepishly. "Right, no one to high-five. Still..." He grinned, cracking his knuckles. "Time to see what this new body can do."

Bang!

An explosion sounded, and Loya turned his head swiftly. This time, the blast came from the direction of the beach, bringing with it the acrid scent of gunpowder.

Is someone finally here? No matter who, I must leave this place! Tired of island life, Loya thought fiercely and jumped hard.

Click!

At the highest point, Loya began to fall, but a palm-sized ice block appeared under his feet. With a light tap, he stopped falling and leaped again to another ice block, bouncing from one to another, racing toward the beach.

...

Vic paced the deck, muttering curses under his breath. "What the hell did I do to piss off a Vice Admiral?" He ran a hand through his hair, growling in frustration. "Two damn days of this crap! I haven't even scored a decent haul yet!"

He patted the ship's railing, a hint of pride in his voice. "Good thing you're fast, girl. Otherwise, we'd be shark bait by now."

As cannon fire intensified, Vic's eyes widened. "Shit, they're going for the sails!" He spun to his crew, bellowing, "Head for shore, you dogs! Move it or lose it!"

His mind raced. 'Lieutenant General or not, I'm Vic fucking Scissorhands! No way I'm ending up in chains!'

Spotting the strange ice sculpture on the beach, Vic frowned. "What the... nevermind, no time!" He barked orders, "Dock and return fire! Keep those bastards off our backs!"

The shell hit with a deafening bang. Vic stumbled, hearing the screams below deck. "Dammit!" he hissed, knowing they were outgunned.

On the Navy ship, the officer approached Lieutenant General Mole. "Sir, the Scissor Pirates have lost their artillery. Shall we charge?"

Mole, resplendent in his quirky uniform, eyed the pirates on the beach. His voice was calm but carried authority. "Give 'em one more volley. Then..." A small, determined smile crossed his face. "We go fishing for scissors. Cannon cover! Charge!"